Hurricane
by Fairly Odd New Yorker
Summary: Constance transfers her daughter to Cackle's Academy in an attempt to protect her from Mistress Broomhead. Flashbacks throughout. Eventual femmslash, don't like it, don't read it. HB/Drill Please R
1. The Calm

**(A/N)-** I should be updating my Magic in the Mirror fic, but I've gotten into a Worst Witch craze, and it had to be done. I'm going to try and continue/finish this whole story. Don't hate on Charlotte, please. I know she's an OC, but ... don't worry, I won't make her angsty annoying, promise. Just give me a chance. And if you like it, review, because reviews fuel me. :) Also, this thing is unbeta'd, so please don't get made if there's mistakes ...

**NOTE:** Constance may seem a little OOC but I doubt she'd be completely heartless towards her own child. I tried to make it believable. I hope I achieved it.

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**Chapter 1 : The Calm**

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If asked, Charlotte would barely remember her very first visit to Cackle's. It was as if it were a far-off dream. Constance, on the other hand, had a very good memory, and she could remember that day as if it were only yesterday.

Charlotte was three at the time. She could talk, in broken sentences, but she barely did, especially when she was around strangers. Her pale blonde hair had been kept at chin length so it was much more manageable: Constance hated to hear her daughter cry whenever she tried to brush out a knot for her, so at least this way it lessened the amount of knots as well as tears.

"Who's this little cutie?" Davina exclaimed, leaning down to the toddler with her hands on her knees. Charlotte smiled shyly, ducking behind Constance as she sat at the desk in the staff room, grading the fourth year students' exams.

"She's mine, back off," Constance muttered, suppressing a grin. As much as having her daughter at Cackle's for the day was stressing her out to no end, she couldn't mask the pride she felt when she was able to say that Charlotte was hers.

"What's your name, dearie?" Davina cooed as Charlotte peeked out from behind her mother's arm.

"What's your name?" Constance asked her daughter quietly, taking a moment from her grading to coax the girl to tell Miss Bat herself. Charlotte grumbled softly and hid her face against Constance's stomach. Constance took her gently by the shoulders, and looked her into her dark brown eyes, "Come on now, tell Auntie Davina your name," she said softly as she brushed her bangs away from her eyes.

"Mm Charlotte," she mumbled, wringing her hands, smiling at Davina.

"What a beautiful name, Charlotte!" Davina gasped. Constance rolled her eyes, suppressing a grin as she turned back to her papers.

Amelia came in the door at that moment, opening it up carefully as she expected Charlotte to still be behind it with her mother, and she was.

"Frightening little girls again, Davina?" Amelia asked as she crossed over to the table.

"She's not frightened!" Davina protested, as Charlotte made a motion in the air with her hands to be picked up, and Davina obliged, "See?" she said, hoisting her up on her hip.

"Drop her and I'll lock you in the cupboard for all eternity." Constance threatened, not looking up from her papers.

"I dare say she'd like that idea, Constance." Amelia chuckled, sipping her tea.

Constance looked around at the clock realizing the time, "Damn," she muttered under her breath, and quickly took up her papers, tapping them against the desk.

"Damn," Charlotte said, loud and clear. Davina laughed.

"That's a bad word, Charlotte," Constance warned, getting to her feet and pointing a finger at her, "Mind your tongue."

Charlotte nodded eagerly.

"And you, Davina," she rounded on her, pointing a finger in her colleague's face, "Don't encourage it."

"Don't curge it." Charlotte repeated.

"That's my girl," Constance said, looking proudly at her before grabbing up her handbag.

"Amelia, could you watch over her while I'm in class?"

"No can do, Constance," Amelia said, "I'm afraid I have an appointment with some of my students." That was a lie, and Constance saw right through it.

"Which students?" Constance asked, trying her.

Amelia simply raised a brow, and said nothing.

"Oh, _come on_, Amelia!" Constance protested, feeling much like a little girl whining to get her way, "It's only an hour!"

"I can watch her!" Davina announced happily, bouncing the girl on her hip, making her laugh.

"Over my dead body, you will," Constance grumbled. She didn't mind Davina, she just knew that the old witch could be so absentminded that she'd most definitely let Charlotte go astray, "She'll be hanging from the rafters." Constance argued, and carefully took her daughter from the Chanting teacher's arms.

"She will not!" Davina protested, "She'll have loads of fun! And the girls could help me to watch her!"

Constance ignored her, keeping a good grip on Charlotte's waist with one hand as she took up her papers with the other.

"You can't expect to keep her in your Potions class with you-" Davina started.

"What choice have I got?" Constance exclaimed with a frustrated sigh, and turned to her headmistress, "I don't see why you can't compromise, Amelia- she's only going to be here today, and tomorrow she's going back home."

"Why don't you ask Imogen?" Amelia asked.

Constance's eyes widened dangerously. "Miss Drill?" she spat. Miss Drill had only just arrived at the school a month ago, and Constance hated her. It wasn't because she wasn't a witch, it was because Constance couldn't see why the girls should waste their valuable class time learning about exercise when they could be spending that time learning magic. This was, after all, a witch school.

Next thing she knew, Imogen Drill had come into the staff room, "Did you call me, Miss Hardbroom?" she asked, and Constance whipped around, looking dangerously at the woman. Imogen ignored the glare, and instead greeted Charlotte.

"Hello there, little one," she said with a grin, and Charlotte smile, hiding her face behind her mother's shoulder.

"She yours?" Imogen asked, shutting the door behind her and taking a sip of her water bottle.

"_Yes_, she's _mine_!" Constance said irritably, feeling suddenly territorial. There was no way she was going to allow this woman to watch over her daughter. But at the same time, she couldn't cancel her classes for the day. The third years had their exams to take, and she was already running late for that.

"Imogen, Constance was wondering if you could watch Charlotte for her while she teaches her last class for the day."

Constance was going to kill Amelia.

"I'd love to," Imogen said brightly, grinning up at the potions mistress. Constance narrowed her eyes at the PE teacher, hugging her daughter closer to her chest.

"If I find the slightest scratch on her-"

"She'll be _fine_, Miss Hardbroom," Imogen insisted, "I've baby-sat for my brother's kids before. You don't have to worry about a thing."

Constance glanced at the clock. She was running almost ten minutes late. She sighed deeply, and handed her daughter over to the woman, trying to avoid skin contact with her but her warm tan hands accidentally brushed Constance's cold clammy hands, sending a shiver up her spine. Something about that woman rubbed her the wrong way, she couldn't pinpoint it.

"I'll be back to get you once class is done, all right love?" Constance gave her daughter a chaste kiss on her head, and one final warning glare at Imogen before she left. She stormed off down the hallway and shouted at the girls who had taken her lateness as a sign to leave.

"_Where_ do you think you're all going? Get back to class!" she roared as the girls scrambled to get back into the classroom.

.::.::.

Constance was a nervous wreck throughout her entire class. It was only an hour long, but to her, it felt like it was three hours. She was just glad that it was a written exam, and therefore she didn't have to be bothered with making sure the girls weren't fooling around or trying to cheat behind their cauldrons.

Constance didn't sit down once. She constantly paced all around the room, eyeing her students like a hawk. Every time she passed her door, she managed to catch a glimpse out the window across the courtyard at Imogen and Charlotte. Imogen had a class to teach as well, but it was more like a free period. She let the girls play with jump ropes or handballs and other sporting equipment. She didn't seem to mind what they did, just as long as they were doing something other than standing around and chatting with one another.

Constance felt a stab of jealousy as she saw how well her daughter and the non-witch got along. Imogen was entertaining the girl by juggling; 'what a clown' Constance thought distastefully. Charlotte laughed and clapped in delight. She never did that when it was just her and Constance ...

She immediately dropped that thought. After all, it wasn't her place. She was never a very affectionate person. She left all that to Zachariah Wolfsbane, her husband, whom which she wouldn't have married if the marriage had not been arranged since birth.

The man was twelve years her elder. She married him when she was 18, and he, 30. If anyone asked, she'd say she went through with it because she needed her inheritance. But her real reason for marrying him was that little blonde-haired girl whom she doted on constantly whenever she was on holiday.

Constance wanted a daughter so much that she waited ten whole years until Zachariah was finally comfortable with the idea. Despite his reluctance to have any children, he was smitten by Charlotte. And for the first time in the ten years since they married, Constance and Zachariah finally had something in common.

She collected the last of the exams and magicked the room back in order before sweeping out of her classroom, magically closing and locking it as she headed out to the courtyard.

Miss Drill was busy inflating some new volleyballs with a manual pump in the store shed when she saw Miss Hardbroom arrive. Miss Hardbroom eyed the PE teacher dangerously when she did not see her daughter at a quick glance about the room.

"Well?" she asked, "Where is she?"

"Shh!" Miss Drill said with a finger to her lips and a grin, "She fell asleep on the gymnast mat."

Constance stepped forward towards the back of the shed and immediately spotted that mess of wavy blonde hair, "No need to be quiet, Miss Drill," she said, "The girl is just like her father- a bomb could go off and she wouldn't stir at all."

Constance sat down beside her daughter, who was sprawled out on her side, thumb in mouth. Constance gently removed her hand from her mouth, and brushed the hair from her face, and as she did so, she allowed a flow of magic to seep through her.

"What's that you're doing?" Miss Drill asked.

"Nightmares." Constance said simply, "It's the only thing that's bound to wake her. My husband usually forgets to do it for her."

Miss Drill sat down opposite the mat, looking at Charlotte's peaceful form.

"She's beautiful ..." Miss Drill said, and Constance's eyes flickered over to her and they locked eyes for a brief moment.

"I didn't even know you had a husband, let alone ..." Miss Drill stopped when Constance glared at her.

"It's not your place to know," she said simply, turning her attention back to her daughter. She was at ease just watching her sleep. Even Miss Drill wouldn't be able to get a rise out of her as long as Constance was watching Charlotte. Constance envied the girl. She wished she could sleep just as peacefully.

"I know," Miss Drill said quietly, nodding, "Will she be here long?"

Constance was silent a moment, watching her daughter's chest rise and fall with steady breaths, "Her father will be by to fetch her tomorrow."

"Divorced?"

Constance's dark eyes fell upon the PE teacher once more, "No."

Miss Drill nodded awkwardly, wishing she didn't bother to have a word with this witch.

"We're separated, to a degree," Constance said truthfully, allowing the non-magickal woman to know as little as possible, "He teaches at a primary school for witches and wizards," she looked back to Charlotte, "She'll be attending the same school in two years."

"Will she be attending Cackle's then? When she's of age, I mean ..."

Constance never even considered it. Sure, she wanted her to be here, with her, but in order to get a proper education, she'd have to be enrolled in a separate school. She wasn't sure she was ready to have a family member attend Cackle's, and after all, everyone on her husband's side (the girls, anyway) had always attended Salamander Witch School. She knew Charlotte would wind up going there, no matter what she said.

"I have to bring her to bed," Constance said suddenly, her voice wavering a bit. She gathered her daughter up into her arms and vanished, leaving a confused Imogen sitting alone in the store shed.

.::.::.

Constance did not sleep that night. This was, of course, due to her consumption of a wide-awake potion. She didn't want to sleep. She spent all night lying in bed beside her daughter, watching her as she slept, sending a gentle stream of magic through her child's veins whenever she sensed the slightest amount of discomfort.

She had basically given up her daughter after she was born- why did she care what happened to her now?

As much as she wanted a daughter, she found herself hating her at the exact same time. She couldn't choose between Cackle's and her daughter. She had been working for Cackle's since she was seventeen years old. The only thing that had ever kept her from teaching was her pregnancy, and, on Amelia's orders, she was forced to take off for a year.

She was bored out of her mind, having read every book in their library. She had resorted to becoming a tutor for some of her in-law's kids, but it just wasn't the same. She missed Cackle's the entire time. She missed her potions lab, she missed Amelia, and she even missed Davina! Most of all, she missed her students, as much as they never ceased to wreak havoc and get into all sorts of trouble.

She vowed that she would hire a nanny and leave at once for Cackle's Academy as soon as she had given birth. Such a vow wasn't an easy one, nor was it practical, for Charlotte was born in May, and there was no sense in Constance returning to Cackle's with just a month left of teaching.

She loved Charlotte, but she was no good with babies. A nanny was hired, Georgina Bandersnatch, and she was great with babies. Constance couldn't stand babies. All Charlotte ever did was scream and cry, and it only made Constance look forward to her return to Cackle's in the fall.

She felt awful now, having avoided her daughter for the most part in her early years. Eventually, as Charlotte grew older, her tolerance for her mother's constant absence would grow into resentment. Someday, she might lose her forever.

Constance still lay in bed, watching her daughter as the sun began to rise. She sensed her husband's arrival, and soon, she could hear the front door bell ring.

She picked up her daughter, careful not to wake her as she rested Charlotte's head into the crook of her neck. She took the long way down, by foot, letting her husband know through magic that she was on her way. She didn't want him to ring the bell again, lest he wake up the entire school.

She opened the front door with the slightest movement of her pointer and pinky finger, her arms wrapped around her daughter's sleeping form.

Her husband stood there in the early morning light, in his dark green wizarding robes and that itchy prematurely grey beard whose only purpose she felt was to deflect her from him all the more, as if she needed a reason to. He smiled vaguely at her, but his green eyes only seemed to see Charlotte, not Constance.

"Good morning," he said quietly, "I trust she behaved herself?"

Constance nodded, "Yes," she replied, barely audibly as she rested her cheek briefly atop her daughter's soft head. She planted a kiss atop her brow, hoping Charlotte felt it in her dreams.

He moved to take her, and Constance reluctantly handed her over, her words practically jumbling out of her mouth, "Remember to use magic on her before she sleeps or else she'll have nightmares."

He didn't say anything. Stubborn fool. He probably wanted nature to simply have it's way with her. Constance didn't want any harm to come to Charlotte, in each and every way. Perhaps constantly blocking nightmares was overkill, but she didn't care. She wished she had someone around to do it for her, when she was young.

"Zachariah?" Constance asked as he turned to leave, and he looked over in question.

"What school will Charlotte be attending?" She asked, "When she's of age, I mean ..."

"Salamander's, of course," he said with a small smile, "You know that."

Constance nodded lightly, hoping the sadness in her eyes was barely readable, "Yes, of course ..."

She shut the door as he disappeared with their daughter. _Her_ daughter.

And for a moment, she allowed herself to shed a single tear as she stood alone in the entranceway, back against the door.

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**(A/N)-** Review? :)


	2. The Departure

**(A/N)-** Forgive the stupid chapter titles, they'll get better. Thanks so much **HB's Favourite** for reviewing! :) I'm not much of a fan of any character + inventive family, but this idea kept popping up and I couldn't help it. I just had a hard time believing Constance was single her entire life, that being such a powerful witch she must've come from a rich pureblood family and possibly forced into a marriage. And: I'm glad I got that across about his character with such a short dialogue scene! I'm going to include him more later, in flashbacks.

Also, and this goes for everyone who reads this: the inspiration for Charlotte is the actress AnnaSophia Robb. She wasn't my first choice, but she does sort of look like Kate Duchene/Miss Hardbroom ... if you squint real hard? I don't know, maybe it's just me. I know she's not british - the voice I seem to hear, which is close enough to AnnaSophia's if you listen closely, is Liesel Matthews from A Little Princess (1995). I mostly base Charlotte off of AnnaSophia's performance in 'Sleepwalking' which is worth watching if you're into depressing broken families with abusive pasts. Inspiration for Charlotte also comes from the song 'Whisperlude' by Pogo / Fagottron on Youtube. The inspiration should be more apparent later; I just kept picturing a little girl dancing and spinning, and the whole story came out of that. I honestly do not understand how my mind works.

**NOTE**: The previous chapter was a sort of prologue, and the rest of this fic is 12 years after the scene in the first chapter, with the exceptions of the flashbacks, which I will put in italics from now on just so they don't get mixed up in any way. I'm trying to hint at what happened beforehand without giving too much away, all we be revealed in more detail at the appropriate time.

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Chapter 2 : The Departure

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_**~ 12 years later ~**_

Constance Hardbroom stood outside her father's mansion, which she had inherited seven years ago after his death. She gazed carelessly at the 'For Sale' sign that had been tacked into the muddy earth, and she turned away, breathing in the warm summer's air. She could practically smell the autumn breeze on it's way, the distinct coolness in the breeze that brushed by her face every so often in little bursts. She longed to get into the sky to feel more of that, but she had to wait for Charlotte.

She turned around, giving the house one last look. It looked old and decrepit from the years of neglect it had been given, long before her father had passed. He had been bedridden for nearly ten years before he had died. The last words she ever spoke to him were before her wedding day. She forgot exactly what she had said, but it must have been some false statement about how happy she was to have a father like him in her life.

She felt no attachment to this house. It had been a prison to her throughout her entire childhood. Her room was a jail cell, and Mistress Hecketty Broomhead was her warden. She wouldn't have allowed Charlotte to live here if she had a choice in the matter. It was the only home they had left.

Her husband's home was taken from her a year after he had died, due to complications resulting from a heart attack. He was just finishing up one of his history classes when it happened. That was two years ago. Charlotte was thirteen at the time, in the middle of her first year at Salamander Witch School.

Constance feared Charlotte was suffering psychologically from witnessing her father's death. She didn't talk at all for a few months, but eventually, much to Constance's relief, she began to speak again. She wasn't a big talker, but then again she never was to begin with.

Constance watched as Charlotte made her way down the front steps, her napsack and broom in tow. Her pale blonde hair now reached down to the end of her back, but she kept it bound in one huge braid. It still didn't keep the hair out of her face; a couple of flyaway strands were flipping about her face as she strode over to her mother in her new Cackle's uniform, complete with the black cape and witch's hat. She squinted up at her in the afternoon sunlight, managing a small smile.

"Do you have everything?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss." Charlotte replied quietly, and Constance began to wonder when she'd started calling her that. It didn't matter now. She didn't want the entire school knowing that Charlotte was her daughter. Constance felt that her daughter's deep brown eyes and her naturally black eyelashes and eyebrows made it obvious, but her pale blonde hair was sure to throw people off. And, what with her excellent hearing and all, Constance would be sure to diminish any rumor as soon as it was thought up.

It wasn't that she was ashamed of Charlotte. Actually, it was quite the opposite. She just didn't want the girls to have any amount of insight on her personal life, whether Charlotte spoke of her family or not. And she certainly didn't want Hecketty Broomhead finding her out.

Constance had wanted to transfer Charlotte to Salamander's since Zachariah's death, but she was worried it would be too soon. Starting a new life at a new school would be hard enough, and doing so while dealing with the death of a parent ... she just didn't want to make her go through that. So she decided to give it a year. Bad idea.

Charlotte had written to her mother exactly one month before summer break, saying that she desperately needed to speak with her. Constance, never having received such a letter, by anyone, immediately arranged to meet with her that weekend, where she was allowed to venture off into the nearby town (with permission, of course). Constance had a feeling that this was about Mistress Broomhead, and she wanted there to be no written evidence that she was there to see her daughter, if that was the case.

It was.

::::::::

_Charlotte smiled uneasily across the table, hiding her arms beneath the desk nervously. She kept looking out the window every so often, as if she didn't want to be there. Constance ordered her tea for her when the waitress came around, and she sat stock still, staring at Charlotte, waiting for her to begin. When she did not, she folded her arms and asked, rather shakily despite herself,_

_"Does this have to do with Hecketty Broomhead?"_

_Charlotte winced, and quickly shook her hand at her mother, "She might hear us!" she hissed._

_"She can't," Constance said, with such certainty that Charlotte immediately felt at ease, "Not as long as you're around me."_

_"Why?" Charlotte asked, ever the inquisitive one when it came to magic, especially the kind not taught in school._

_Constance's eyes briefly flickered across the cafe a moment, and she locked eyes with her daughter, "It's a sort of bubble charm, a deflection," she explained, "It keeps unwanted ears from listening in, and it's stronger when one or more of the same blood is around the one who cast the spell."_

_Charlotte swallowed this information, eyes lost in the checkered tablecloth._

_"Now," Constance said, taking a deep breath, "What is it you needed to tell me?"_

_Charlotte's eyes flickered briefly upwards and met her mother's gaze, and soon fell to the table as she twisted her fingers nervously under the table._

_"Your letter sounded urgent," Constance stated, trying to remain nonchalant, "What happened?"_

_Charlotte took a deep breath, and began, "Well, you know that whole ... thing I got into a couple of weeks ago ..." her voice died down as she trailed off at the sight of Constance's hardened eyes._

_"What 'thing'?" she snapped._

_"They didn't contact you about it?" Charlotte asked, confusedly._

_"About what?"_

_"I guess it's not important then ..."_

_"Charlotte!" Constance shouted, despite herself, breaking the bubble for a brief second and causing people to look around. She continued in a firm tone but was careful not to raise her voice above how much the bubble could take._

_"What happened?" she demanded, "I did not come all this way for you to dance around the problem!"_

_"Don't get mad then, okay?" she exclaimed, her voice wavering, and Constance closed her eyes, taking a breath, trying to restrain herself._

_She opened her eyes again, looking into Charlotte's now teary eyes._

_"What happened?" she asked calmly._

_Charlotte took a breath, wiping her eyes, "Well, remember what you said, that I have a gift, and that gift might show itself in some unexpected way?"_

_Constance's furrowed eyebrows suddenly turned into that of worry. Charlotte continued._

_"Well ... it happened, I think."_

_Constance swallowed dryly, "How?"_

_"I made a storm happen," she said, wincing, waiting for her mother to blow up on her. But she didn't. She simply stared back at her daughter._

_"I got mad," Charlotte explained, "My best friend betrayed me in front of the entire school. I became the laughing stock. And the teachers there, they don't do anything, they just tell the class to quiet down, nobody cares what's going on ..." she began to ramble, and Constance quickly grasped both her hands, which she was waving stressfully to further express her anguish. Charlotte stopped at the cool touch of her mother's pale skin, and looked up tearfully._

_"And Hecketty," Constance said, feeling sick to say the woman's name, "she found out about this?"_

_Charlotte nodded, feeling much more relaxed as her mother took her hands and placed them one on top of the other in the middle of the table, and covered them with her own in a gentle squeeze._

_"She was inspecting the school at the time."_

_Constance sighed in disbelief, "You picked **then** to lose control? After all that I've told you about her-"_

_"I know, I snapped." Charlotte said, meeting her eyes, "I'm sorry."_

_Constance nodded, looking down at their hands, "It's okay." she said, not believing her own words and her daughter could feel it, "Everything ... is going to be okay."_

_Silence hung between them for a moment, and Charlotte shrunk her hands away, back under the table, as the waitress came by with their tea. Charlotte thanked her quietly, but Constance remained silent as she stared out into nothing. She appeared to be deep in thought._

_Charlotte gave her a little more time, before she gently prodded, "What are we going to do?"_

_Constance's eyes flickered at her, and over at her tea as she sighed shakily, taking up her cup and sipping it. There was a slight tremble to her hands, and Charlotte felt uneasy. After placing the cup back down, she smiled at her daughter forcefully, and very briefly._

_"You'll be attending Cackle's from now on," Constance said, folding her arms across her chest, "You'll be safer there. I can keep an eye on you and, hopefully, help you to control this ... gift of yours."_

_"I don't need to be looked after," Charlotte insisted, "Hecketty seems just as afraid of me as I am of her."_

_"If she fears you, then you need to be more wary of her."_

_"I damn near knocked her over when that storm was brewing ..." Charlotte trailed off, as if reminiscing over a fond memory. The look in her eyes as she stared off unsettled Constance, and she shifted in her seat, "You should've seen her face ..." Charlotte said with a light laugh._

_"Charlotte, if she fears you, she's going to want to control you even more than she already had planned to in the past," Constance said seriously, "You have something, and she wants it. And she'll turn around and claim to the entire world that she developed your ability herself! She'll tell you over and over again that she taught you how to do it, and in time, you'll damn near be forced to believe that it's true. You'll fear her, Charlotte, possibly even more than I do. And if you don't ..." Constance looked away tensing up, "I've said too much."_

_Charlotte's passion she felt bubble up at the thought of how brilliant, magical and powerful her own gift was had faded as Constance spoke, and it now felt like she had a rock in her stomach. She felt like she wanted to cry, but she ignored it, and sat up straighter, looking fiercely into her mother's eyes._

_"We can fight her," she said, "Together."_

_Constance shook her head immediately, "No, we can **avoid** her. She may be a witch but she can't live forever. If you're smart, you'll just stay away from her. That's all anyone can ever do."_

_Charlotte nodded, wishing that her mother had said otherwise. She sighed, sipping her tea as she looked across the cafe at some girls from her school. They were talking amongst themselves, and one of them happened to glance over at Charlotte, and she whispered to the others, causing them to laugh._

_"When do we leave?" Charlotte asked._

_"Immediately," Constance said, not bothering to finish her tea. She left money for the waitress and shot Charlotte a brief reassuring grin before heading out, making sure her daughter was following._

::::::::::::

Constance mounted her broomstick, strapping one of daughter's bags beside her. She sat and waited, watching as Charlotte got her broom to hover. In that moment, Constance realized that she had never seen her daughter fly a broom before.

"Haven't you got a cat?"

Charlotte shook her head, "Reptiles are Salamander's thing. Didn't you know?" she held up a small plastic traveling tank that contained a salamander, "He's miserable though. I plan to release him."

Constance took the tank from her as she strapped her second bag to her broom. She held the cage up at eye level, watching as the scrawny little thing moved it's front legs up against the tank in a feeble effort to escape, but he didn't seem hellbent on it. As if he were just making the motion to do so out of routine, and not expecting to get anywhere.

"Does he have a name?" Constance asked.

"Salvador," Charlotte breathed, sitting up on her broomstick.

"I suppose his last name is Dali, isn't it?" Constance asked, remembering their trip last year to a museum where some of his work was featured.

"Yup," Charlotte smirked as she reached out and placed the tank carefully inside her cloak pocket so the tank hung snugly upright behind her.

"There's a lake not far from the school," Constance said, "You may release him there."

Charlotte took one last look at the mansion as Constance commanded her broom into the air, and Charlotte soon did the same.

She took off ahead of Constance for a bit, eager to get up into the clouds. She looked back, smiling down at her mother as she caught up with her.

They exchanged no words during their flight, as they would have to shout over the wind if they chose to. The flight was fairly long, so long in fact that Charlotte's legs were growing numb, but she didn't voice this. She tried hard to enjoy the breeze as she struggled to keep her witch's hat on. Constance had no problem with her hat as her bun seemed to help keep it in place. Charlotte soon gave up and held the hat in her hand against the broom, pointing her toes as they rose higher into the sky.

She could see the castle just ahead, and relief filled her. She pulled herself up to fly at her mother's side, and Constance soon gave the signal to go down, and they both descended into the school courtyard.

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**(A/N)-** Sorry the scene ended kind of 'bleh', but I wanted to get this chapter up before I had to start on my homework. Next chapter will be up ASAP, but please review, even if it's just a word or two. Nothing mean, please. :P I'm still rather new to this fandom, so cut me some slack.


	3. The All Seeing Eye

**(A/N)-** Thanks everyone for reviewing! :) They really made my day! Sorry this took a while to update - I really didn't expect anyone to read it and I didn't want to disappoint ... Last week was hell for me. This chapter has been backspaced and completely rewritten at least 5 times ... and in my opinion, it's rather boring, sooo ... please don't critique it much, it's filler. Just filler. Because if I jump ahead to Broomhead's arrival, it would just be too soon. xP

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Chapter 3 : The All-Seeing Eye

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"Your last name will be Wolfsbane." Constance reminded as she dropped her daughter's bags down by the bottom of the stairwell.

"It always has been." Charlotte murmured, watching as the other girls made their way down the steps, heading into the mess hall for supper. They made sure to stay well out of Miss Hardbroom's way as she took Charlotte's salamander tank from her arms and placed it on top of her bags with a sigh.

She looked over at Charlotte, who was awkwardly trying to pat down the loose strands of hair that had become unbound from its long plait during the flight. She was watching the girls as they passed, face expressionless. It was almost as if she was expecting the same outcome from this school as the last one. A girl giggled to her friend on the way down, and, thinking it was directed at her, she looked down at the stone floor.

"Don't _dawdle_, girls!" Constance shouted at Griselda Blackwood and Fenella Feverfew, who had both stopped at the foot of the stairs to wait for someone. They promptly continued on their way, shooting a glance at the new girl as they did, and exchanging glances with one another as they headed into the mess hall.

Constance approached her daughter once the crowd seemed to lessen. She lightly touched her daughter's head, and the loose strands of hair tucked themselves back into her plait. The magic sent a sort of chill up Charlotte's spine, and she shivered, looking up at her mother.

"Thank you, Miss Hardbroom," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her mother simply stared back down at her, and in that moment, she could almost see a wall fall between them. The wall that made them no longer mother and daughter, but teacher and student.

She wondered if she would be able to bear this. It was bad enough that she rarely saw her mother nowadays, but to have to see her everyday and not be able to talk to her except for on a professional sort of level ... she only hoped Miss Hardbroom would keep her promise to teach her how to control her powers ...

"Welcome to Cackles, Charlotte Wolfsbane." she eventually replied quietly, trying to look at least a bit happy so that her daughter would feel happy to be here, but already a sort of sadness had swept over Constance. Sure, she would have her daughter here at all times, and be able to look after her and teach her ... but she could not treat her as if she were her daughter. It was for her own good, she kept reminding herself.

"Well," Constance said with an uneasy sigh, "It's just about supper time ..."

"Actually, I was wondering if maybe I could skip it?" she asked hopefully, "I'm feeling a little queasy from the flight, and I'd rather just settle in ..."

Constance didn't believe her, and she felt like asking her if she'd like some foul-tasting potion to remedy it, but she decided against it. Charlotte eyed the students as they passed, looking worriedly at them.

"They probably don't know about it," Constance said under her breath, pretending she wasn't speaking to her as she watched the students make their way into the great hall, "Cackle's is a rather reclusive school."

She looked over at Charlotte, who still looked hesitant.

"I know," she replied quietly, "I won't ask this of you again, Miss ... please?"

Constance sighed, and nodded reluctantly, "Just this once."

Charlotte smiled thankfully, and strode over to her bags, but Constance stopped her. She pointed at the bags with her usual pointer and pinky finger, and zapped them into thin air, transporting them upstairs, "Don't tell anyone I just did that for you," she muttered, suppressing a smile, "Shall I show you up to your room?"

"I think I'll manage," she assured with a reassuring grin, "Goodnight ..."

Constance watched as Charlotte slipped past the other girls as they passed her on their way to dinner. Once her daughter was out of sight, she let out a heavy sigh, and headed off to the staff room.

* * *

"Constance!" Amelia greeted, touching the woman's shoulder as she passed, sitting beside her, "I trust your trip went well?"

"Well enough, I suppose." Constance replied, and added before sipping her tea, "Thank you for asking, Amelia."

"How is Charlotte?"

"She's fine, despite the urgency in her letter ..." she sighed, "I don't know all the details yet, but apparently she somehow conjured up a storm."

Amelia's eyes widened slightly, "I see ... was she expelled then?"

"Catherine said she most likely would have been," Constance replied, referring to Catherine Salamander, Headmistress of Salamander Witch School, "I went to sign Charlotte out of the school after hearing her side of the story. Catherine didn't reveal much, but she said a student had been injured, nothing too serious of course ..." she sighed deeply, "I've also learnt that Hecketty Broomhead was at the school, not only to inspect, but to inquire about a permanent teaching position there. Catherine declined her request, naturally."

"Of course." Amelia said, knowing Catherine Salamander all too well. The woman was strict with her students, perhaps even more than Constance was, but she was against the old ways of teaching. She did, however, enforce punishment through physical labor rather than the writing of lines. Catherine felt the children were less inclined to do wrong if every time they spoke out of turn they'd wind up scrubbing the floors for the rest of the evening. It was a bit harsh at times, but it was still better than the punishments Mistress Broomhead would give.

"I feared Hecketty would be after her," Constance admitted, looking seriously over at the woman who knew her even before she had been put under Broomhead's tutelage. "So I've accepted your previous offer, and she'll be staying here from now on. Without my husband around anymore, I decided I shouldn't take any chances."

Amelia nodded, "She's safe here," she assured, placing a warm calloused hand on Constance's arm, giving it a small reassuring squeeze, "You both are."

Constance nodded, "Thank you Amelia ..."

"Now," Amelia began with a deep breath, "where the devil is Drill?"

As if on cue, Imogen burst in the door at that exact moment, wearing a dripping wet raincoat and looking miserable. When she saw her colleagues staring at her in bewilderment, she smiled warmly, "Some weather, eh?"

Constance's blood ran cold, and she shot a horrified glance at Amelia who, in that moment, had just realized who could possibly be the reason for it.

Trembling, Constance folded her arms and disappeared, leaving Imogen puzzled and offended.

* * *

Constance appeared at the foot of Charlotte's bed. She was sitting there cross-legged, looking at a small crystal ball in her hands. She was too captivated by the images in it to notice her mother had appeared.

"What is that?" Constance asked sharply, and she jumped, causing the crystal ball to leap from her hands and roll off the bed. Charlotte scrambled to get it, but Constance beat her to it with magic, making the ball fly up into her open palm.

"It's just a crystal," Charlotte murmured, "Nothing more ..."

Constance curiously observed the image it was playing, of a young girl about Charlotte's age, donned in Salamander's traditional green and black colors. She had short red hair pulled into a ponytail, and she was talking and laughing with other students as they ate dinner.

"Who is this?" she asked, her deep brown eyes flickering up to look at her daughter, who was sitting there, awkwardly wringing the hem of her dress in one hand as she looked a bit tearfully back at her.

"No one important," she said dryly, "At least not anymore."

Constance raised a brow, but didn't comment. "Can you see everyone in this?"

"Depends on how good they are at magick," she said, calming down a bit even though she could see where this was leading, and she knew that, at the end of this conversation, she wouldn't be allowed to keep her crystal ball.

"I can't see you in it, if that's what you're thinking," Charlotte said, knowing how much her mother hated to be spied on, "You show up sometimes, or at least I think you do. It's always a blur."

"Can you see _her_ in it?" she asked irritably.

"I didn't dare to try ..." Charlotte admitted.

"Good," she said, calming down a bit, "It would be very foolish of you to try it, for if you can see her, odds are she can see you too."

she held up the crystal ball, motioning to Charlotte with it, "I'm keeping this, for your own safety. You may have it back if or when this is all over."

"What do you mean 'if'?" Charlotte asked, but Constance ignored her. She didn't want to elaborate. She should've just said 'when', but that would keep the girl's hopes up that Hecketty won't come back to try and claim her. If she did, Constance would do whatever it is in her power to stop her, but in the end, Hecketty always got what she wanted. Always.

"Are you responsible for _that_?" she asked, pointing to the window. Charlotte turned, suddenly aware of the rain, and she shook her head.

"No," she said, "At least, I don't think so. It only happens when I'm angry."

Constance nodded, "Well, do mind your feelings and their effects on the weather," she said, "I shall see you tomorrow."

And she shut the door without another word.

* * *

_Constance could bear the terror no longer. It was awful enough to be shut away for all hours of the day while her personal tutor attended meetings for the Witch Council. The door was bolted shut with locks and magick, as were the windows. She was left in the dark, despite her pleas to keep at least a small candle lit._

_ 'And why? So you can burn the house down whilst I'm away?' Hecketty had snapped, and Constance had leapt away just in time, saving her fingers from being slammed in the door._

_ The house was old and creaky, and she was certain it had rats though she had never seen one. Wind howled against the building, rattling the windows and making it damn near impossible for her to think._

_ She'd often spend these days dreaming of a way to escape. Others, she'd simply lay there and accept her fate. No one had heard her cries for help since she was five years old, and now, being ten years of age, she had lost all hope of ever being saved._

_ She wished for a way to find out when Mistress Broomhead was on her way back. This would not only give her time to calm down and wipe her tears, but to prepare her so she wouldn't look so scared when the woman appeared outside the door and threw it open. She would always receive ten lashings to her shins for looking like a mess, and a slap to the face for looking up at the woman in such terror._

_ She felt her way around in the darkness, on her hands and knees, and her fingertips brushed the cool metal bowl that she'd snuck in earlier so that she could wash herself up a bit before Hecketty returned, in an effort to make herself look more decent. The bowl, however, would serve a greater purpose this time._

_ She sat with her legs folded, tucking her short black hair behind her ears. (Hecketty despised long hair on girls for she felt it served as a distraction and required time to maintain, time that would be better spent elsewhere.) Constance missed her long hair, for when she let it down she felt safer and hidden, even when under the watchful eyes of Hecketty Broomhead._

_ She conjured up water, and it filled the bowl as she tossed the sponge aside. She could see her reflection on the water in the small amount of moonlight that spilled from the only window in her 'time-out' room. She sighed deeply, fighting back the tears as she ran her hand along her cropped hair in dismay. With another deep breath, she regained her composure, and made sure the bowl stayed cradled and secure in her lap._

_ She held her hands above the water, pointing her pointer and pinky finger at down at the water. It was a habit she'd gotten into when she was young in an attempt to help her focus her magick. Hecketty didn't approve of this hand gesture at all; she felt this was a crude and bad habit Constance had acquired. She was convinced she had beaten it out of her, but Constance still used this technique whenever she was gone, if only just to spite her._

_ "__Absconditus ad oculos," Constance whispered, and a blue glow emitted from the water's depths, causing her to gasp slightly. The water shimmered as it awaited further commands from her, and she stared at the beautiful shimmering liquid a while before finally saying, shakily, "Shoe me Mistress Hecketty Broomhead."_

_ Unidentifiable images flickered in the reflection for a moment, and then she saw the dragon herself._

_ Hecketty Broomhead had just taken up her purse, and was heading out of the Witches Council to mount her broomstick. Constance held her breath, fearing that she might be heard._

_ The woman stopped suddenly, her hand on her broomstick, and she turned, looking around her. Slowly, her gaze lifted and she was staring directly into Constance's eyes._

_ "Constance!" she shouted, and in the next instance, the bowl flew from her lap, soaking the girl in freezing cold water. She gasped as the cold water sent a shock to her already freezing skin, and the bowl landed beside her with a series of loud noises as it resumed it's upright position._

_ She scrambled to the farthest wall as she heard the locks unlock one at a time, loud and echoing like the sound of bullets. The door soon flew open to reveal her tutor._

* * *

"Constance?" Amelia inquired, her kind voice pulling her out of reverie.

"Is everything all right?"

Constance nodded, taking a sip from her tea, "Yes, Amelia." she said, raising her eyes to look across the table at Imogen, who appeared a bit concerned as well. She had felt the woman staring at her, and Constance huffed, getting to her feet,

"I shall relieve Davina from her duties," she said, turning to leave. She didn't appreciate being stared at with such concern. She was fine. Charlotte was fine. Everything was going to be fine. She just needed to distract herself, and the one thing that always did it was keeping herself busy with daily duties.

"But don't you have lights out as well?" Imogen asked, and Constance looked round at her.

"Yes." she replied, and left just as Amelia had tried to call her back.

* * *

**(A/N)-** Next chapter is Charlotte's first day at school. Yayay. :P Also look me up on Youtube if you have a moment - I'm SeltzerAddict on there. I've got an HB vid and a collab involving her, looking to finish at least one more ... Anyways, review please! Next update should be soon!


	4. Potions and Pranks

**(A/N)-** Sorry this is so delayed! It's unbeta'd so please forgive any mistakes. I refuse to let this fic die because I have some pretty epic scenes already written. Please review, next will be up ASAP!

* * *

**Chapter 4 : Potions and Pranks**

* * *

"Good morning, Miss Hardbroom," greeted Miss Drill as she sat down beside the potions teacher.

"Good morning, Miss Drill," she answered automatically, sipping her tea.

"Well, now that we're all here," said Miss Cackle as she looked to her deputy, "Constance, you wanted to speak with us?"

"Not necessarily, I only wanted to inform you all that my daughter transferred here just yesterday, and I'd like it if you not address this fact."

"You mean ... we have to ignore her?" Miss Bat asked carefully.

Constance sighed, "_No_, Davina," she closed her eyes briefly in irritation, "I mean you must not address her as my daughter. You are to treat her as if she is any other student at this Academy."

"Is it really such a bad thing if the girls know?" Miss Drill asked, to which she received an intense glare from the potions mistress, "It's not against the law or anything, is it? To teach a family member?"

"No it is not, Miss Drill, I simply do not want to divulge my private life. It is not something the rest of the school really ought to know. I'm entitled to keep my personal life _personal_."

"Hardly what anyone would consider personal," Imogen murmured with a shrug, "She's your daughter and that's the end of that. They need not know anything else, and if they ask, it would be up to you or Charlotte to tell them."

"Precisely my point!" Constance snapped, "I don't exactly know what sort of girl Charlotte is when it comes to gossip and what not. I don't want the girls to get the wrong impression!"

"What sort of impression would that be, Constance?" Davina piped up, and she shot a warning glare in her direction. Davina's innocent smile faltered, and she rose to run for the cupboard, but Amelia touched her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

"Constance, is it really such a bad thing that the students know you are a mother?" Amelia asked, "I don't believe it will make them think any less of you. In any case, it might just demand a little more respect from them."

"And this is coming from the woman who couldn't even tell her colleagues that Gabrielle Gribble was her niece," she reminded, raising a brow, "I don't want the girls to think I'm a _softie_ of any kind, or that I'm giving her special treatment ..." she sighed heavily, "I plan to treat my daughter as a student, and with that the same amount of discipline I would treat any other student. She has, after all, grown up with her father as her teacher. The whole school knew it, and I can't imagine that made her life any easier ..."

"Oh I don't know," Davina said, bouncing slightly in her chair with excitement, "I would've loved it if my parents had been my teachers!"

"He rambled _on_, Davina. Much like Chief Hellebore." she said disgustedly, "Sure, he was a respectable man and all, but ... well, when it came to disciplining students, he never disciplined her, not once, at least that's what the headmistress told me." she said, "This spurred talks of favoritism. That and he used her nickname."

"Which was?" Imogen asked.

"Lottie," she said, "Which wasn't all that bad, but it did get her teased." Constance looked over to Amelia, "So you see, I have several reasons why I don't want the entire school knowing of my relations to her. There aren't very many good reasons to decide otherwise."

"I see," Amelia said, "I just hope you don't sincerely believe that the girls won't figure it out on their own, that she's your daughter." Amelia had caught sight of her before breakfast at Assembly. Charlotte had been the only girl who wasn't singing the school song, for she didn't know the words, and her pale blonde hair made her stick out like a bright star in the night sky.

"She has your eyes, Constance." Amelia reminded, causing the woman to wince slightly. Sure, she expected the girls would most likely find out on their own, or at least suspect that they were related. She just hoped it wouldn't be as obvious as Amelia was making it out to be. No matter. Constance would be listening in on her students' conversations every so often anyway. If she heard a single breath concerning her and Charlotte, she'd be sure to squash the idea immediately.

The headmistress rose to pour herself another cup of tea frowning concernedly as she did so, "By the way, who is supposed to be overseeing breakfast this morning?"

Constance and Imogen both looked over at the chanting teacher at the same time. She was busy stirring her tea, humming a little tune. She felt her colleagues' eyes on her, and she looked about, her smile fading at the sudden negative attention, and then she realized what Amelia had just asked.

"Oh, toadstools and tree frogs, they'll be dancing on the tables!" she muttered hysterically as she plopped her tea cup down, sloshing it everywhere before breezing out the door.

* * *

Charlotte was the last to enter the potions lab that morning, and before she could escape her sight, Miss Hardbroom called her to the front of the room. She stopped short, closed her eyes with a quiet sigh, turned her heel, and strode up to the front of the room, her hands gripped tightly on the strap of her messenger bag.

"This is Charlotte Wolfsbane," Constance introduced, touching her daughter's shoulder out of habit, but she carefully retracted her hand, reminding herself not to give any indication that she might be more than 'just another student'.

"She's just transferred here from Salamander's, and I expect you all to treat her with the same respect you would anyone else here at Cackle's." she eyed Mildred and her friends dangerously. She honestly didn't expect they would cause any harm unto her daughter, but they'd most certainly get her into a heap of trouble.

"Enid?" Constance asked, her eyes scanning around their usual area, Mildred and Maud sat side by side, and Jadu and Ruby were paired behind them, but there was no sign of Enid, "Where is Enid Nightshade?"

A hand rose from the opposite end of the classroom, "Right here, Miss Hardbroom," she answered quietly.

Constance raised a brow in confusion, but said nothing about it. It wasn't every day one of Mildred's friends sat so far away from the rest. She supposed something was up, but unless she witnessed any arguing, it wasn't her business. Perhaps this was a good idea then ...

"Enid, you will show Charlotte around the school for her first couple of weeks," she said, "You of all people must know what it's like to be the new girl in a new school."

"Yes, Miss." she replied.

"Very well," Constance motioned for Charlotte to go sit, and she did. Enid pulled her satchel off of the empty seat beside her, shooting Charlotte an irritated scowl as she sat down beside her. Constance noticed the look, but she said nothing. Enid was the odd one out as it was, and she no longer had to have a group of three girls work together on a potion.

It almost always caused problems, for there would always either be one girl who would not do her share of the work (and she always spotted that one out straight away) or they'd chatter on constantly and make a nuisance of themselves. She knew her potions class always worked when everyone was evened out neatly into pairs. The sight of three bunched together always seemed inconsistent to her other classes, and it stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Mildred Hubble," she called, not in a threatening way but the girl jumped at the sound of her name, and Miss Hardbroom sighed, closing her eyes for a second. "Isn't it your turn to hand out the ingredients for today?"

"Yes, Miss Hardbroom." she replied.

"Well?" she raised a brow, and Mildred clambered out of her seat, promptly tripping to the floor as she stepped out of her chair. The class erupted in laughter, save for Charlotte.

"For gods' sakes, child!" Miss Hardbroom snapped, "When will you ever learn to tie up your bootlaces?"

"It wasn't her fault, Miss!" Maud Moonshine interjected after looking down at her fallen friend, "Someone's tied her laces together."

Mildred's friends immediately looked to Ethel and Drusilla, who were both looking over at her and laughing. Ethel frowned deeply at them, "It wasn't us!" she complained, "How could we do that from all the way over here?" Drusilla asked.

"Well," Ethel said as Miss Hardbroom silenced the class, "We could've done it from over here, but Miss Hardbroom would've seen it happen," she said, looking over to her potions mistress, "Isn't that right Miss?"

"Yes," she said shortly, fed up with this banter. Class needed to begin, and she was annoyed to find herself embarrassed it hadn't gone according to plan, "Ethel, you'll hand out the ingredients for today," she directed, taking up the tray she had set aside for her first class, which had been neatly piled up with all of the ingredients they would need for a truth serum.

Constance Hardbroom felt rushed and weary from the troublesome thoughts that plagued her mind over the past few days, as well as prevented her from getting a good night's sleep. Had she been in top form today, she would've noticed the odd smell coming from the handle of the tray before she touched it, and her skin paled at the sudden realization of it.

Ethel had gotten up and come around to her teacher's side to fetch the tray, but stopped short when Miss Hardbroom cried out, "NO!" and it made nearly the whole class jump.

She looked around at her students, her dark eyes piercing dangerously as she stood up tall, back straight, careful not to fold her arms in her usual fashion lest the mixture spread to other parts of her body (but how could it? she hadn't much exposed skin anyway).

"Someone has been messing around with mixtures they ought not to be messing with," she growled, her voice steadily rising, "And when I find out who it is, they can be absolutely certain to find themselves expelled indefinitely!" she shouted, trembling with anger.

Ethel stood there, looking up at the woman in shock. She looked uncertain as to whether or not she should just go back to her seat, but as she tried to flee, Miss Hardbroom's voice called her back, much calmer than it had previously been.

"Ethel, pass out the ingredients, but mind you don't touch the handles for they've been tampered with ..." she pointed out to another handled tray that she could sense had not already been tampered with, "You may transfer them to that one, Drusilla, if you could assist her ...?"

"Yes, Miss," the redhead replied quietly, exchanging glances with her friend as she passed her to fetch the other tray.

Miss Hardbroom returned her threatening eyes to the rest of the class, "We may soon find out by the end of this class who the culprit is, as you will be concocting a truth serum today. We might also find out who had tied your bootlaces together, Mildred," she added, to which Mildred gave a grim smile, her eyes meeting her form mistress before returning to her hands that were clasped on the desk before her.

"Charlotte," Miss Hardbroom called gently, "If you could come with me, please ..." she said, holding up her tainted hand briefly before opening her stock room door with her clean hand. She held it open for Charlotte as she gave one final warning to the class.

"I want you to complete your task in silence or you will spend the remainder of this afternoon in detention," Charlotte slipped past her, and she shut the door behind them, giving one final glare through the glass before disappearing from view.

* * *

"I didn't do it," Charlotte said almost right away, her eyes wide as she looked over at her mother's hand. She tried to get a good look at it before Constance turned and hid it from view, rummaging through her drawers for a remedy.

"Of _course_ you didn't!" Constance snapped, looking over at her, and she took a deep breath, "I'm sorry, love." She shook her head, tirelessly flicking through the vials, "I swear, these girls will be the death of me."

Charlotte glanced out the window at her classmates, who were diligently going about their business as the ingredients were passed to them. Some looked up and shifted in their seats, meeting Charlotte's eyes as they tried to sneak a better look.

"Come," Constance commanded, sitting down at the short table in the middle of the room and beckoning her daughter to the empty seat beside her.

"Who do you think did it?" Charlotte asked, sitting down and gasping slightly as she got a good look at the damage. Constance's whole hand was now a beet red color and sores had started to form.

"Oh, don't get so dramatic!" she said, "It's a concoction used to turn one's skin red," she explained, "Unfortunately, it contains foxglove, that of which I am allergic to," she sighed, "This is one of the reasons why I don't approve of practical jokes."

She handed the vial to her daughter, and popped off the cork with a single flick of the wrist, catching the cork in her open hand.

"I have a good idea of whom the culprit may be," she said, "But I won't point any fingers just yet. The truth serum will settle that- _Careful_!" she snapped, with a sigh, "Just pour it on, or you're bound to suffer the same. This allergy tends to run in my family, on the girl's side mostly ..."

Charlotte obeyed and poured the liquid on her inflamed hand. It sizzled slightly as it came in contact with the blisters, causing the potions mistress to wince slightly and twitch her fingers.

"Do they always do this sort of thing?" she asked quietly.

"No," Constance said, and rethought her answer, "Well, never to this degree. And it's often against one another. None of them would dare cause harm to a teacher for that would mean expulsion without question."

"You're not really going to expel her, are you?" she asked, "Whoever did it?"

Constance rolled her eyes, "Miss Cackle is bound to go against my wishes, so most likely they'll just be doing detention for the rest of the term. If I have it my way."

At that moment, Enid Nightshade burst into the room, closing the door behind her. She met Charlotte's eyes at first, before being caught by Miss Hardbroom's suddenly enraged glare.

"Yes, Enid?" she snapped, "Come to deprive me of my other hand as well?"

Enid's breath caught in her throat, her mouth slightly agape before she swallowed audibly, "You know?"

She cut her eyes at her, "I _guessed_," she corrected, "You've just affirmed my suspicions."

Charlotte tried not hard not to smile at this; it was a trick she'd often pulled on her when she was a little girl. Charlotte never could tell whether or not her mother already knew the truth, or had to be told the truth.

Miss Hardbroom waved her hand at an extra chair in the corner of the stock room, and it shot across the floor, just missing Enid before stopping beside the table.

"Sit." she ordered, and Enid didn't waste time in doing so.

"I was hoping I could talk to you alone ...?" her dark brown eyes motioned over to Charlotte, who immediately looked to her mother, awaiting her decision.

"Enid Nightshade, I don't believe you are in a position to make requests," she said with a grim smile.

Enid nodded, rolling her eyes under her bangs as she looked down at her palms in her lap, "Truth is, Miss, it's only a mixture to turn one's hands red. I really don't think I should be expelled for that."

"Oh, is that right?" she asked in mock surprise.

"Yes." Enid replied firmly through gritted teeth, not liking to be toyed with as much as the next person.

Miss Hardbroom presented her hand to Enid. The swelling had gone down a bit, but it still looked painful. Enid breathed in sharp, her eyes wide as she faced the reality of the situation.

"Miss, I didn't mean for that to happen," she said, shaking her head, "Not to you."

"But to Mildred?" she asked, raising a brow. "Were you responsible for her bootlaces as well?"

"Yes, I was, but -" she sighed in frustration, "Miss Hardbroom, you don't understand."

"Enlighten me, then." she said sarcastically, her swollen hand now resting on the table once more. She flexed her fingers slightly as she tested its healing. Charlotte tenderly retrieved the cork from her mother's good hand as it rested tirelessly on her lap. Enid noticed this, and Charlotte's eyes met after she closed up the bottle.

"Well?" Constance asked, snapping Enid out of it.

"Mildred was reading my journal this morning," she explained briefly, "I did it to get back at her, even the shoelaces but I didn't think that would cause you to relieve her of her duties," she admitted, "I didn't mean for the mixture to cause ... well, _that_," she said, gesturing to Miss Hardbroom's hand, "And I'm deeply sorry."

"Sorry you caused unreasonable harm, or sorry that you got caught?"

"Sorry for the unreasonable harm," she said, and suddenly felt hysteric, "Miss, please, you can't expel me. My parents would be furious, I'll be put back in regular school for sure ..." but Miss Hardbroom's hardened gaze did not waver. Enid let out a humorless laugh, "I suppose this means nothing to you, and it shouldn't, but ..."

"I need not hear your life story, Enid," Constance snapped, "Return to your desk and speak with me after class. Charlotte will join you in a moment."

Enid looked surprised, and sat there a moment, wondering if she'd heard right.

"Off with you, now," Miss Hardbroom ushered, shooing the girl away with her good hand.

Enid glanced at Charlotte once more, and left the room. Once she did, Miss Hardbroom raised her hand to use her magic once more, but Charlotte daringly grasped her mother's wrist before she could do so. This earned her a warning glare, which Charlotte ignored.

"I'll get it," she said, "Which drawer is it?" Without waiting for her answer, she crossed the room in the direction her mother had flicked her wrist, and opened the top drawer.

"Third one down," Constance said wearily, and Charlotte returned with a roll of bandages.

"If anyone asks you why you were back here, you're to say you were being ordered about and quizzed on potions-related questions as you helped to bandage my hand," she said seriously, failing to hide an amused smile, "Understood?"

* * *

**(A/N)-** WOW I know that ended bad. Please review, should I bait you with the fact that there's a little HB/Drill in the next chapter? ;D LOL


	5. Truths

**(A/N)-**I am SO sorry for the very delayed update! I overthink this story too much. And I have no one to bounce ideas off of, so this past month I've been debating whether or not I should include another OC, if she is entirely necessary, along with wondering if I should trash this story and start over or trash it and forget about it entirely. But then I realized I was being too hard on myself, and that people on here had obviously read it and enjoyed it enough to want me to continue, so continue I shall. It's just going to take me a while.

I want to make it clear that although I would like to show more of Charlotte's interactions with other students, this story is to focus mostly on Constance so, for the most part, whatever happens will be only what she sees. Until much later on, at least.

* I am eternally grateful to those who have reviewed!

If anyone would like to chat with me about Worst Witch and stuff and help to keep me inspired, please drop me a PM or an IM via

Also, if you haven't already, be sure to check out my youtube account (also under the name SeltzerAddict) I have quite a few Worst Witch music videos that I think are fairly decent but have yet to receive much needed love. :3

Hope you like this one! Bit of femslash (nothing graphic) be warned!

* * *

**Chapter 5- Truths**

* * *

Truth serums weren't exactly forbidden to make, but a witch could not make one without a special ingredient. This ingredient is regulated by the Witches Council, and the truth serum itself is only made in rare cases. The reason for this is it's instability. It's side-effects were often unpredictable, and the length of time in which it would work could sometimes be anywhere from 5 minutes to 5 days. The strength of the serum was also unpredictable. One could either still keep the truth from leaving their lips, or become unable to stop telling truths even without one questioning them.

Constance Hardbroom wouldn't have taught her students how to make one if the secret ingredient were obtainable, but since it wasn't, she instead replaced the ingredient with blood root, which turned the potion purple when mixed with the dogwood bark. This made it possible for her to tell if they'd mixed the potion correctly.

She had hoped no one in the class would realize they weren't making actual truth serums, but she was wrong. Ethel Hallow had to open her big mouth, and forced her to explain. As if any of them would even think for a split second that she would teach them how to make a potion that could wreak so much havoc on the castle.

"So how will we know who tampered with the ingredients tray?" Drusilla asked. She sighed irritably. Her empty threat had been found out.

"I already know who did it." Miss Hardbroom answered curtly.

"It was Enid Nightshade, wasn't it?" Ethel asked, looking around at the culprit, who sneered back.

"Was not!" Enid snapped back, her eyes immediately locking with HB's as she silently pleaded with her not to tell.

"Must've been the new girl then," Ethel said, turning back around in her seat.

"It's nobody's business but my own, Ethel Hallow!" Miss Hardbroom reminded with a warning stare before checking the clock above her chalkboard, "You all have twenty minutes left, best that you all spend that time completing your potion rather than pointing fingers."

"But what happened to your-" Ethel began as she motioned to her potions mistress's bandaged hand. Miss Hardbroom cast a deadly glare in her direction, her arms folded tightly across her chest, hiding her bandaged hand as she wordlessly dared the girl to continue. Ethel closed her mouth, and continued working on her potion.

All of the girls, even Mildred (although her potion was a bit more of a pink than a purple) had managed to successfully complete their potions. She congratulated them briefly and carelessly, knowing all too well if she showed too much appreciation that they would surely overstep their boundaries. She tried hard to hide the pain her injury was causing her but despite her incredible amount of self control, she couldn't help but flinch slightly as she flexed it. She knew it wouldn't take long for her to heal, but she couldn't stand injuries, especially one that she could've avoided had she been more alert.

Enid sneaked her way up to the front of the classroom as the others filed out. She saw her murmur to Charlotte to wait for her outside, and she obeyed, but not before glancing over at her mother worriedly.

Ethel purposefully bumped into Enid on her way out with her handbag, "Troublemaker," she growled. Miss Hardbroom opened her mouth to tell her off, but thought better of it.

* * *

Once the girls were all gone, save for Enid, she flicked her wrist, causing the door to slam behind them. Both Charlotte, who was waiting outside the classroom, and Enid, who was standing guiltily before her desk, jumped simultaneously at the sound.

"I have my next class coming in five minutes," she began, "so I'll make this quick ..."

"I didn't mean it, Miss," Enid muttered, looking at her shoes.

"Don't interrupt!" she quipped, "And look at me while I'm talking to you."

Enid reluctantly met her eyes. Miss Hardbroom could feel the usual resentment the girl always felt for her since she'd arrived here, but with it was a mixture of fear, fear of being expelled and being sent home to her parents.

"I'm not going to expel you," Miss Hardbroom made clear, "I know you meant for the potion to simply turn one's hands red, and any side-effects it has caused were out of your control," she said seriously, her eyes never leaving Enid's, "You should know that. You are a capable witch, and you must understand that pranks meant to cause mischief can also cause unintentional harm on others."

"Yes Miss Hardbroom," Enid replied.

"That being said, you will receive detention so as to be made an example of. I can't allow mischief to go unpunished."

"I understand." she replied, a feeling of relief flooding through her as she inwardly reminded herself that although she wasn't going to like detention, at least she wasn't going to be expelled for her actions.

"You are to help Miss Drill put away her equipment every evening before dinner for the next two months," she ordered, fighting back a small smirk. Now Imogen wouldn't have any excuses to make for a while, "You will also serve detention this evening, 500 lines of 'I should not misuse magic on my fellow classmates'."

"Yes Miss Hardbroom," Enid replied dutifully. She hated lines, but she got along well enough with Miss Drill, so she was content with her punishment.

"You may leave." Miss Hardbroom dismissed, swinging the door open with a casual wave of her hand. Enid left, but not before mumbling a "Thank you, Miss" under her breath, knowing that if she expressed her gratitude any more than that, her potions teacher would only get annoyed with her.

Miss Hardbroom looked up, only to see the back of Enid's head as she left the room, closing the door behind her. She had half a mind to ask Enid what was really going on, but decided it was best that she didn't pry unless her grades were affected. She instead made a mental note to ask Charlotte to try and speak to her about it.

She sighed deeply, and got out her lesson plans for the next class as the first years began to pile in.

* * *

Miss Hardbroom sat alone in the staff room, sipping tea awkwardly with her left hand, her dark eyes staring down distastefully at her bandaged right hand. Was she really growing soft in her old age? She should've brought the matter up with Miss Cackle and pushed for a longer punishment for Enid. 100 lines and a week of afternoons spent scrubbing the dungeon walls until they sparkled, was a bit too nice of HB, she thought. However, Enid didn't intend for the mixture to cause any physical harm; she'd only meant it to do what it was supposed to, and it would have, if Miss Hardbroom hadn't been so distracted.

"Afternoon, Constance," Imogen greeted cheerfully, touching her shoulder lightly as she passed. Ordinarily, Constance would've flinched, but there was no one else in the room to put on an act for. She peered at the stationary cupboard for any sign that Miss Bat may be hiding in there, but the coast appeared to be clear, for it was open a crack, and Davina always shut it completely behind her when she went in.

"What happened to your hand?" Imogen asked with a slight gasp, sitting down beside her and gently taking the wounded hand in hers.

"Oh, it's nothing, just an allergic reaction," she dismissed with a wave. Although she did enjoy the attention, she wasn't about to lament about a couple of sores.

She heard Davina's singing some way off down the hallway, and immediately she retracted her hand, only to meet Imogen's hurt eyes. Constance said nothing, she simply stared back at her, widened her eyes slightly, and looked to the door. Davina promptly flung the door open with a basket of posies on her arm, singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow."

Constance looked back to Imogen, who simply shook her head in disbelief, both at Davina's behavior as well as Constance's, before slumping back down in her chair.

"Davina?" Constance addressed in an airy tone, "I'm guessing that your singing has to do with the recent sighting of a rainbow?"

"Oh _yes_!" she exclaimed, "There's one just outside there! I brought all my classes out to witness it in all its glory!"

"Is it still there, at this very moment?" she asked, toying with her.

"Why, yes!" she said with glee, clasping her hands together, "Would you like to go see it?"

"No thank you," she answered, "I just wanted to tell you that if you continue singing that song, I'll personally send you '_somewhere over the rainbow_'." She finished with an amused grin, hiding it behind her teacup as she took a sip. Imogen, on the other hand, was in the middle of drinking from her water bottle, and she spluttered it all over the front of her shirt as she tried to hold back a laugh.

Davina shot an angry glare in the gym mistresses' direction, and Imogen apologized, excusing her behavior by saying she drank her water too fast, and faked a couple of coughs to back it up.

"I know you were laughing, Imogen!" Davina spat, shaking her basket and sending several posies flying into the air. She sighed deeply in frustration, her hands at her sides as she regained her composure. Constance casually brushed a few petals off her shoulder, sharing a glance with Imogen.

"Oh, _relax_ Davina!" Imogen said exasperatedly, and changed the subject "Constance isn't feeling very well."

Constance cut a look in Imogen's direction, and Davina noticed her bandaged hand.

"Oh dear!" she exclaimed, and she knelt down so that they were at eye level, asking in a concerned whisper, "Did that old cat of yours take a swing at you?"

Constance was outraged, "Morgana would never '_take a swing_' at me!" she retorted, "She's not psychotic like your cat."

"Daisy is _not_ psychotic!" Davina snapped, rushing over to her cupboard, grasping the handle as she glared at Constance, "She suffers from mild dementia _and_ she's blind in one eye!"

Constance was about to comment about happening to know someone else who might be suffering from 'mild dementia', but before she could open her mouth, Amelia came into the room.

"What's all this shouting about, ladies?" she asked calmly.

Davina shot one final glare at Constance before shutting herself inside the cupboard with a slam.

"Business as usual," Imogen sighed heavily.

"Constance, dear, what's happened to your hand?" she asked, raising a brow as she sat across from her deputy headmistress.

"Just a minor incident in the potions lab," she dismissed, not wanting to have to go into detail, "The student involved has been punished, it's nothing to worry about."

"Constance ..." Amelia warned, letting her know that she wasn't going to take this as a suitable explanation.

"Well if you really must know," she said with a sigh, "Enid Nightshade played a prank on Mildred Hubble, to turn her hands red," she looked to her hand in disgust, "I touched the mixture instead and had an allergic reaction to it."

Muffled laughter came from the cupboard, to which Constance ignored, though it took a considerable amount of self control to do so.

"Why would Enid do such a thing?" Imogen asked, confused, "They seemed to be getting on alright just yesterday ..."

"Mildred was apparently reading her journal," Constance explained, "So Enid took it into her own hands to seek vengeance."

"Did you punish Mildred as well?" Amelia asked.

"No, well-" Constance was taken aback- why _didn't_ she punish Mildred? "I didn't think about it. Should I have?"

"My, my, Constance," Amelia said with a bemused grin, "I never thought I'd see the day when you would forget to punish Mildred for any wrong-doing."

"I did not _forget_!" she argued, "I simply ... it was more hearsay than anything! I didn't think it was that serious."

Imogen shrugged, "It was serious enough for Enid to act in such a way," she said, "Invasion of privacy, you know ..."

"I don't see why either of you care if she's punished or not," Constance seethed, looking at both of them, rising from her chair, "Either way she's bound to land herself in detention by the end of the day, somehow."

"Where are you going?" Imogen asked, failing to hide the concern in her voice. Luckily Amelia didn't seem to notice it.

"I need to speak with Charlotte," she said, casting an apologetic glance in Imogen's direction as she spoke to both witches, "I'm going to escort her to the lake to release that salamander of hers. Might as well do it now, for it's only a matter of time before it gets loose and someone's cat makes a meal out of it."

And without another word, she folded her arms and disappeared into thin air.

* * *

"I don't understand why they insisted on us having salamanders," Charlotte mused, looking down at the tank in her arms as she headed through Walker's Gate, "I mean, you can't handle them without getting messy, they can't ride on broomsticks, their slime isn't even used in useful potions ... what's the point?"

"I haven't the slightest," Constance replied, closing the gate behind her magically as she caught up with her daughter, "Did you ask Miss Salamander herself about it?"

"I wouldn't dare, she'd have my head for asking something like that ... d'you know she has one herself? It's huge and gross, and a pale pink color ... she used to have it in a tank outside the mess hall, made nearly everyone lose their appetite. Goliath, his name was, and rightly so. She had his tank moved into the staff room after someone fed him a shrinking potion."

"Could've been fed worse, I suppose ..."

"No one would dare feed him something worse than that," Charlotte said, "They never found out who it was but Miss Salamander couldn't be bothered since he wasn't harmed."

"How was Chanting class?" Constance asked gently, changing the subject.

"All right, I suppose," she said with a shrug, "Never been instructed to chase a rainbow before. The teacher kept looking at me as if I had three heads ..."

"Miss Bat," Constance said, "Well, yes, she's not _all there_ most of the time ..."

"Did you tell her about me?" Charlotte asked abruptly, looking up almost fearfully.

"Certainly not!" she assured, "Only that you are my daughter, but I had to so they wouldn't mention it in front of the other students; they'd met you before ..." Charlotte looked confused "You were three years old then, too young to remember."

Charlotte nodded, looking down, "Oh!" she exclaimed, looking up to her mother with a grin, "I taught Enid that spell you taught me, you know, the one to hide writing from prying eyes? I thought I had forgotten it, but it worked."

"Nasty business, that was," Constance muttered, shaking her head slightly, "It's not like them to fight like this. She must've written some pretty personal things to pull a stunt like that."

"Her parents are getting a divorce," Charlotte said abruptly, eyes widening as she realized what she said aloud, "Don't tell Enid I told you."

"Of course, because I'm just the person to bring up personal matters out of the blue," she said sarcastically, "If she made such a big deal about it, why did she tell you?"

"I told her about father," she said quietly, pulling a strand behind her ear with a grim smile, "And that I didn't want the rest of the school to know. Secret for a secret."

Charlotte stopped a good ten feet from the bank, crouching down as she began to pry at Salvador's container.

"Don't you want to release him in the lake?" Constance asked.

She shook her head, "I don't think he can swim very well," she explained, "Best I let him out in the mud."

Constance sighed, folding her arms, "Well, don't come crying to me if he gets trodden on."

"He won't," she assured, still struggling with the top latch on the container. Her mother slipped her spell casting fingers out from her folded arms and sent a shot of magic at it, causing it to open straight away. Charlotte looked over with a look that said 'I could've done it myself'. She scooped him out of the shallow murky water that lined the tank, and held him out in the palm of her hand, "He's as quick as lightning," she said, stroking him gently atop his head. He allowed her to pet him a couple times before darting into the air and landing into the soft earth, causing her to let out a squeak of surprise.

Constance stood there with an amused grin on her face, and Charlotte caught it before she could hide it, "They're all rather flighty," she excused, and promptly she toppled over onto her rear into the wet leaves.

"Goodbye, Salvador," she called weakly as she watched the amphibian disappear beneath a rock.

"Come on," Constance ushered, offering a hand and helping her daughter to her feet, "You haven't even been here a full twenty-four hours and you're already filthy." She brushed some of the dry leaves off before giving up and casting a magical cleaning spell about her clothes, making them good as new.

"Must you use magick for everything?" Charlotte protested in slight irritation, but with a hint of concern, "You know what it does to you ..."

"I'm perfectly fine." Constance replied sternly.

"Bet you're not sleeping at all, are you?" she asked, touching a nerve.

"I sleep the required amount each and every night," she protested, although she failed to mention what the required amount was - for her, she made sure she at least got one full hour, perhaps two.

Charlotte looked like she didn't believe her, but Constance was in no mood to protest. Her lack of sleep didn't effect her work, and until it did, no one had the right to question her wellbeing, not even her own daughter.

"We should head back," Constance said, walking back towards the castle, "I've papers to mark and Enid will be wondering where you are."

Charlotte sighed, shutting the latch on her tank as she gave one last look at the rock which Salvador had disappeared under.

"Charlotte," Constance called, waiting up as she jogged up beside her.

* * *

"Close call back there, that was," Imogen remarked with an uneasy grin.

"What do you mean?" Constance asked, pretending to be reading her book on Magical Remedies but she really was paying attention to Imogen.

They were both still on their break before lunchtime, and Constance had just been talked out of grading papers to spend some quality time with Imogen. Of course, they didn't want their whereabouts to be questioned, so Constance saw fit to simply be in each other's company in her potions lab. That too, however, would probably raise suspicion - why would two teachers who had nothing in common be sitting around in a classroom chatting animatedly? So she took out her book and pretended Imogen was trying to interrupt her in her reading, a scenario that Imogen wasn't particularly fond of but she wasn't in the mood to quarrel about it.

"Davina," she said, "After you left she made some smart remark about you being too close to water, that you might melt. I told her off, and she asked why I was defending you so much lately."

"What did you say?" Constance looked up at her from behind her book as she sat at her desk. Imogen, who didn't find the student's desk chairs to be comfortable one bit, slung her legs over the table top and sat cross-legged at the desk closest to Constance.

"I told her I wasn't defending you, that I was just sick of you and her constantly bickering, which I am," she added, looking seriously in the direction of the potions mistress. Constance pretended not to notice as she looked back down at her book.

"Figures Davina would compare me to the Wicked Witch of the West," Constance remarked with a wry grin.

"You're familiar with the story?" Imogen asked, surprised. She always thought books by non-magical beings were beneath Constance, and the portrayal of witches wasn't exactly true-to-life.

"Of course," she replied simply, "The Wonderful Wizard of OZ was always Charlotte's favorite book growing up, however ..." she rolled her eyes, "Now that she's older, it's that other book and broadway play adaptation ..."

Imogen fought back a smile. She wondered if Constance knew the story of 'Wicked'. If she did, she'd probably approve of it more. In any case, she should know that she sort of resembled Elphaba, only she didn't have green skin. Imogen thought of pointing this out to her, feeling it would do her heart good to know Charlotte's interest in the book may have possibly come from overall respect of her own mother ... but Imogen kept quiet. Constance never did like musings much; she was a straight-forward sort of woman. No 'possibly's or 'maybe's here. It would be sort of like gossiping, and Constance couldn't stand for that.

Constance shut her book firmly with a thud, waking Imogen from her thoughts. She rose gracefully and rounded the desk, leaning against the front of it slightly as she looked down at the younger woman.

"If you like," Constance offered, "I will remember to pick a fight with you next time instead of Davina, if you think it would help divert suspicion."

"_Constance Hardbroom_?" she asked, in mock surprise, "Pick a_ fight_? Now _that's_ unheard of." She teased with a grin.

"Watch it, Drill," she growled in a teasing manner, leaning in close to her face with her arms folded. "I'll fight you this very moment if you don't mind your tongue."

"Is that a threat?" she asked with a wry grin, and stole a kiss from her ruby red lips. She pulled away almost instantly, a part of her fearing she'd be told off for not even bothering to check if there were any students nearby, but the distance between them was immediately closed as Constance held her pale hand to the tan woman's cheek and pulled her in for a searing kiss.

As needy as the kiss was, it wasn't long before Constance broke it with a sly grin. She snatched up her book and headed out of her classroom as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Tease." Imogen murmured as she dragged herself off the desk with an exaggerated huff.

"Miss Drill, don't dawdle!" she snapped, in case any students were nearby, "Don't you have detention to oversee?"

* * *

**(A/N)** - I've rewritten this chapter like a bajillion times so have mercy! And please leave an encouraging review. :)


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